The Alistair Chronicles
by Phsbarbie
Summary: This is the game of Origins from Alistair's point of view. I started to write this and then hopped around a bit in the story line as you can see with my Alistair's Tales. I'm not sure when the next chapter of these will be coming, but I like them none the less.
1. Chapter 1

"You must be Alistair," says a female voice from behind me, tinged with amusement. I just delivered the Reverend Mother's message to the mage in the way most likely to entertain myself. It seems someone else shares my sense of humor. I turn around to share the joke with whoever it is and immediately lose all ability to speak. Or think. Or, for a moment there, breathe. Maker's breath, she's stunning! She has long brown hair, grey-blue eyes, and curves to die for(since I left the Chantry I've discovered I like curves quite a bit). She's not very tall, she only comes up to my chin, and her skin is just a touch darker than mine. I'm in heaven. Until I realize I've been standing here all this time not saying anything. Idiot! Say something!

"You know, one good thing about the blight is how it brings people together." Nice one genius. Now you'll be lucky to get her name. But to my surprise she laughs.

"I know exactly what you mean." Sweet Andraste, did this woman just laugh at my joke _and_ counter with one of her own?

"I don't suppose you happen to be another mage?" Please say no. Mages don't like me much. It must have something to do with being trained as a Templar. If I were a mage I probably wouldn't like me much either. Before she answers the question I know the answer. I may be an idiot but I'm not stupid. I'm a Grey Warden, a warrior, trained as a Templar. Put me on a battlefield with a sword in hand and I'll show you how damned good I am at all three.

Observation is one of those skills required to make sure you live to see your second battlefield. She's dressed in a mid-weight armor, her hands resting lightly near a pair of daggers that she looks more than capable of handling. She holds her head up with a certain kind of bearing, as if she's used to being watched by people and knows better than to show any weakness. Like a high ranking noble. It seems I don't need an introduction. I'm standing in front of Teyrn Cousland's daughter, the newest Gray Warden recruit.

"I know who you are. Duncan's new recruit from Highever. I should have recognized you right away, I apologize."

"How could you recognize me?" she asks, creasing her brows together. No need to let her know how closely you were staring, says my inner voice. He's rather smart, and quite talkative. Please, don't judge. I can't be the first person in Thedas to argue with his inner voice and name him Al, can I? Okay, ignore that last part.

"Duncan sent word. He spoke quite highly of you. I'm Alistair, though I guess you already knew that. As the junior member of the order I'll be accompanying you as you prepare for the joining."

"Pleased to meet you," she says, extending a hand. I'm not sure whether to shake it or kiss it. This is a war camp however, so I go for the shake, which she returns heartily. Score one for me guessing right! "I'm Angel Cousland." Angel. It seems appropriate. Don't say that!

"Right, that was the name." Sigh. Like that was much better. "It just occurred to me that there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens. I wonder why that is?"

"You want more women in the Wardens?" she asks, raising her eyebrows.

"Would that be so terrible? Not that I'm some drooling lecher or something. Please stop looking at me like that." She's trying not to smile, I can see it in the way she's biting her lip.

"Maybe we're just too smart for you."

"True. But if you're here what does that make you?" She loses the battle and starts to laugh.

"Good one." See Al? And you were worried. "So, what was that argument with the mage about?"

"The mages and the Chantry at each others throats again. I was simply a pawn. I was once a Templar." A look of surprise crosses her face.

"You were a mage hunter?"

"Not that that's all Templar's do, but yes. I was raised by the Chantry until about six months ago when Duncan recruited me. I wouldn't even have delivered the message, but Duncan says we all have to get along. Apparently, they didn't get the same speech."

"Duncan promised me a hot meal and some time to explore camp. Are you going to tag along though all that?"

"Don't worry; I'll try not to embarrass you." I reply. Or myself.

"I look forward to traveling with you."

"You do? Huh. That's a switch."

"What do you mean?" Damn it Al! Where were you on that one?

"Just that not everyone appreciates my unique brand of humor. Let me know if you have any questions. Otherwise, lead on." So I follow her around camp, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. Besides, walking behind her gives me ample time to study those curves. She barters with the quartermaster, getting him to offer her his hidden goods, gives a prisoner his last meal, and picks the locks on any chest she can find. She tells Daveth not to get too "distracted" watching her back(advice I could surely use), and even cons Loghain's guard into calling him out to talk to her! If she survives the joining we're going to gain one hell of a Warden. Although, I do try to hide behind her during the meeting with Loghain. I'm pretty sure he knows who I am, the secret I keep, but if he does he doesn't show it. He doesn't acknowledge me once, and that's fine with me.

"Alistair," she says as we're walking away from the mess tent, "tell me about yourself."

"Well, let's see, as I said I was a Templar in training up until six months ago with the Chantry. Not that I ever wanted to be a Templar. It was a choice made for me a long time ago. Duncan saw I was unhappy and figured my training could double for fighting darkspawn. He had to invoke the Right of Conscription, the Grand Cleric never would have let me go otherwise. I'll always be grateful to him for that."

"You speak fondly of Duncan." I pause before responding. How do I explain it?

"I spent over a decade in the Chantry, hating the life someone else had decided on for me. Duncan was the first person to care what I wanted."

"You didn't want to join the Chantry?" This is always a tricky question to answer without someone yelling heretic.

"It just... wasn't for me. I believe in the Maker well enough, but I never wanted to devote my life to the Chantry." She flashes me a grin.

"I believe in the Maker too, but I'd sooner go live with my Mabari in the kennels than a Chantry." I have a flashback of sleeping with the Mabari at Arl Eamon's estate in Denerim.

"I suppose there are worse places to sleep."

"Hmm?"

"Nothing. So, that's my story. What about you? How did Duncan round you up?" Her easy smile disappears so quickly I wonder if it was ever really there at all. The look it's replaced with is as hard as stone.

"He saved me too, but in a more literal sense. He snuck me through a secret passageway in the kitchen's larder to escape Arl Rendon Howe's men." She spits the name like it's actual venom. "He was our vassal, but he made sure our men had marched here to Ostagar and then marched his on our castle. They killed everyone there, my entire family, including my seven year old nephew. Myself and my brother Fergus are all that's left of the Cousland line. He's out there somewhere scouting the wilds. Next time I see him I'll have to tell him that his wife and son were murdered by one of my father's closest friends." I'm stunned into silence. When she looks at me again all emotion has left her face.

"It's getting late, we need to get back to Duncan," she says, speeding her walk ahead of me. I let her go and follow her back to Duncan's tent. When we arrive the first thing she does is check on her Mabari, scratching him behind the ear and whispering sweet nothings. Oh how I wish I was a Mabari.

"Alistair," says Duncan, calling me over. Well, that was a fun afternoon. Time to get on with being a Grey Warden, namely babysitting the new recruits.

"Yes, Duncan?"

"Before I send you out to the Wilds, tell me. What do you think of our recruits?"

"Daveth seems like a most disreputable fellow that I'd love to have a pint with. If he's as quick with a blade as he is with his tongue I think he's in fine shape. Ser Jory, on the other hand, is in for a rude awakening. Has no one explained to him that joining the Wardens is a lifetime gig? That he can't just work weekends and live happily ever after in Redcliffe the rest of the time? And the girl, what was her name? Something or other Cousland?" Duncan gives me a look that says I'm not fooling anyone.

"Angel. Angel Cousland."

"Right, that's it. She, I think, has the most potential."

"Hmm. Interesting. Now that you're all here, we can begin," He says to the recruits. As he spells out the task at hand I watch their faces. Daveth seems twitchy, Jory seems scared, and Angel seems determined to kill something. Looks like babysitting might not be so bad after all.


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as we step outside the camp gates we're attacked by wolves. I stay back and let the recruits handle it. If they're about to fight darkspawn it's a good idea to get their jitters out. Jory seems to put all his strength behind every swing of his great sword. Daveth spends a lot of time dodging, moving in quickly to stab and cut, then retreating again. Angel- well, let's just say I was right about those daggers. She moves like she's practiced sword play everyday of her life, which, come to think of it, she probably has. She's a blur of spins, kicks, and stabs. After she's dispatched three wolves, she assesses the situation and sees the wolf going for Daveth's back at the same time as I do. Before I can even draw my sword she slides across the clearing until she's between Daveth and the wolf, killing it with a dagger thrust up into its throat. Daveth turns around just in time to see this last part and is staring at her in wide eyed wonder. She grins up at him.

"Well Daveth, it seems your back requires more watching than mine."

"Indeed it does, my good lady," he says as he helps her up.

"All right, let's keep moving," I say, walking past the two of them. "The darkspawn are waiting and they're not known for their patience." We've only gone a few steps when we hear the soldier calling out for help. As we turn the corner I see that he's the only survivor of a darkspawn attack. It's not the first time I've seen this, and it probably won't be the last, but it looks like he's been spared the taint this time.

"Let's try to bandage him up, at least," says Angel.

"I have bandages in my pack," I say, quickly tending to the man. He thanks us and starts to limp back to camp.

"Did you hear that? An entire patrol of seasoned men killed by the darkspawn." I try hard not to roll my eyes. Called it. Ser Jory wants the glory, but not the gruesome work that goes into it.

"Calm down, Ser Jory. We'll be fine if we're careful. We're in no danger of walking into the bulk of the horde."

"How do you know? I'm no coward, but this is foolish and reckless. We should go back."

"You sound like a coward to me," says a female voice from behind me, this time with no amusement. Did this small rogue girl just call that hulking warrior a coward? Why yes, I believe she did. I really should step in before she sends him crying back to camp.

"A bit of fear isn't unnatural, you know. Few relish meeting darkspawn up close. I know I don't." I can see her trying not to roll her eyes.

"It appears I am the only man here," she says, daring us to contradict her.

"I know I'm relying on you to protect me," I say in a syrupy tone. Of course, she probably will. Shut up Al! How to console the recruits- strike that, the men, Angel is tapping her foot waiting for us to get on with it- without saying more than I'm allowed? "All Grey Wardens can sense the darkspawn. We won't be taken by surprise. That's why I'm here."

"You see, Ser Knight? We might die, but we'll be warned about it first," says Daveth.

"That is... reassuring," responds Jory uneasily. Angel walks past us with a scoff.

"Are you done coddling them? Because I'd really like to go kill some darkspawn." My eyes follow her for a moment until I remember where I'm at and what I'm doing.

"Ahem. That doesn't mean I'm here to make this easy, however. So let's get a move on!" I walk away without waiting to see if they bought this bit of bravado. It restores more of my authority that way. Maker, I'm an idiot.

I catch up to Angel as she's crouching behind a pillar, spying on the first group of darkspawn we've seen.

"We should wait for Jory and Daveth to catch up, then come up with a plan." She gives me a lopsided smile and nods towards the other two coming up the path behind us. "Okay, so what's your-" I'm cut short when she notches an arrow in her bow and lets it fly. It hits the Hurlock square in the eye, killing him instantly.

"My plan," she says, "is to kill them all."

"That's one hell of a plan," I say as we rush to meet the oncoming darkspawn. We fight back to back with Daveth sniping from the side with his longbow and Jory taking out any stragglers. After this one fight I can say without doubt there is no one I would rather have at my back in combat than Angel Cousland. I'm catching my breath while she's checking to see if there's enough pure blood left in any of the darkspawn to fill a vial.

"Angel, you fight like no one I've ever seen," I say. She glances over her shoulder at me.

"It's simple really. I picture Howe's head on everything I fight. They never stand a chance."

"What will you do once you've killed him?"

"By that point I'm sure I'll have made new enemies." She manages to fill two vials with blood and tosses one to Jory. "There you go, Ser Jory. Now you can head back to camp." Jory looks at the vial in his hand, then at me. Just before I'm about to tell him no, actually, he can't, he speaks to Angel.

"I beg your pardon, My Lady Cousland, but I will stay and fight." He slides the vial into his pouch and sets about cleaning his sword. Angel gives me a wink. Maker, this woman is a genius.

"Right, shall we be off then? I don't see any noblewomen tossing vials of blood my way." grumbles Daveth. Of course, getting the next vial isn't difficult. We simply slaughter more darkspawn. Then off we go deeper into the woods to look for the scrolls. Angel takes point and, I must say, I don't mind. I am finding more and more that I prefer to follow. Or at least to follow her. I know, I know, What a horribly unmanly thing to say. Next thing you know I'll be stopping to ask for directions! Don't worry, I'll never let it get that far. I should say it's because the recruits need to lean on each other, but the truth is she's a better leader than I am. And I'm okay with that. We can't all be leaders, then who would follow? I prefer to just show up at a battlefield and kill things, rather than plan the strategy behind it.

"Alistair, are we still going the right way?" she asks, turning to face me before we cross a worn down bridge. See? I'm still useful.

"Yes, it's just a- look out!" One of those Genlock rogues has materialized behind her and quickly fires an arrow straight at her head. As I speak I'm running towards her, and she starts to turn in what feels like slow motion. She doesn't have enough time to react, so I take a running dive and tackle her, pinning her to the ground beneath me while the arrow flies harmlessly above us. She looks up at me, her eyes wide and startled.

"It appears you should be the one watching my back."

"A task I will apply myself to most willingly." Ashes of Andraste, did I really just say that? No time to contemplate it now, I'm already up and engaging in battle.

"Daveth," she calls as she throws her dagger into a Genlock's skull, "you're fired." I smile as I behead the rogue that shot the arrow. Maybe it wasn't the wrong thing to say after all.

"Come on," I say after the last one is killed. "You can see the tower ruins up on that hill." As we climb the hill I marvel at the magnitude of the ruins. To think the Grey Wardens of Ferelden were ever so highly regarded and respected... Well, it gives me hope that we can be again. A goal, if you will, to see the order rebuilt in my homeland. "Okay, there should be a chest around here somewhere. It was magically enchanted, so..."

"Well, well, what have we here?" I turn, sword drawn, at the voice. Call it instinct, but I have a bad feeling about this. From the shadows emerge a woman, her necessary bits barely covered, with a staff on her back and a bad attitude. An apostate. I groan inwardly. Just what we need. "What say you, hmm? Scavenger or intruder?"

"Intruder? And just how are these your Wilds?" asks Angel, taking a step towards the other woman. She laughs.

"Because I know them as only one who owns them could. Can you say the same?" She walks towards us, putting me on edge. Angel turns with her so as not to expose her back. Clever girl. "I have watched your progress for some time. And now you disturb ashes none have touched in centuries, why?"

"Don't answer that," I say, stepping next to Angel. "She looks Chasind, and that means others could be nearby."

"Are you afraid barbarians will swoop down on you?"

"Yes," I say in a tone I would use with a child. "Swooping is bad."

"She's a Witch of the Wilds, she is. She'll turn us into toads!" exclaims a panicking Daveth.

"Witch of the Wilds, what idle imaginations you have. You there," she says, turning to Angel and dismissing the rest of us. "Women do not frighten like little boys. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine."

"I am Angel, a pleasure to meet you," she responds. And even out here in the Wilds I can see the Teyrn's daughter in her. She is calm, cool, and trained. Maker, I hope this one survives the joining.

"Now that is a proper greeting. You may call me Morrigan. Shall I guess your purpose? You seek something which is here no longer?" she says, gesturing to the broken chest at her feet.

"Here no longer? You stole them, didn't you? You're some kind of... sneaky... witch thief!" Okay, not my best line, I'll admit.

"How eloquent." I'm definitely leaning towards not liking this Morrigan. "How does one steal from dead men?"

"Quite easily, it seems," I say through gritted teeth. "Those documents are Grey Warden property, and I suggest you return them."

"I will not, 'twas not I who took them. Invoke a name that means nothing if you like, I am not threatened." I glare at her. Not even a little threatened? That was my best threatening voice.

"Then who removed them?" asks Angel, giving me a look that clearly tells me to shut up. Apparently diplomacy is another skill she excels in.

"My mother," replies the witch.

"Can you take us to her?"

"A reasonable request. I like you. Follow me." She turns and walks into the forest. Angel starts to follow, but stops when she realizes she's the only one. She turns around and cocks an eyebrow.

"Come boys, must we really have the 'I'm the only man here' discussion again?" She resumes following Morrigan.

"She'll put us all in the pot she will, just you watch." I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose.

"Daveth, you're making Angel's point for her."

"If the pot's warmer than this forest, it'd be a welcome change," states Jory, who then proceeds to follow Angel. I jog past him to catch up to her, leaving Daveth to either follow or stay by himself in the Wilds.

"Wait for me!" he calls. I guess he decided to follow.

"I don't like this, Cousland. First it's 'I like you,' but then zap! Frog time."

"Cousland, is it? And here I though we were getting along rather well." I open my mouth and close it again. Rather well? Is that better or worse than regular well? "Besides Alistair whatever-your-last-name-is, if it gets us the treaties, what does it matter?"

Theirin, I want to tell her, but only for an instant. Something tells me Angel isn't the type that would take a "nevermind" as a follow up answer. Let's go back to analyzing what "rather well" means. Sometimes I hate you Al. I must have been lost in thought for awhile, because the next thing I know we're walking up to a dilapidated old shack. Morrigan introduces us to an incredibly old woman she claims is her mother, who gives us the treaties and sends us on our way.

"See?" says Angel as we're heading down the path Morrigan showed us. "We got the treaties and no one was turned into a toad."

"For the record, I was just watching your back."

"Don't get too distracted back there," she says with a wink. Rather well must mean something good.


	3. Chapter 3

She lived. I realize I should be more upset about the loss of Daveth and Jory, but all I can think about is that she lived. It's fairly obvious I'm interested. At least, I think it is. To be honest, I don't have much experience with women. And by much, I mean none at all. Being raised in the Chantry will do that to you. And it's not like the last six month with the all male Grey Wardens has helped any.

Tomorrow, after the battle, I'll ask her to... dinner? Women like dinner, right? Strike that. I'll ask one of the other Wardens what I should ask her to do. Then I'll ask her to do that. I stop stirring the fire and stand to greet Angel and Duncan returning from the meeting with the king. Angel has an annoyed look on her face. I don't think I'm going to like this.

"You heard the plan, same as I," Duncan is telling her. "You and Alistair will go to the Tower of Ishal and light the beacon."

"What? I won't be in the battle?" I say. I was right. I don't like this.

"This is by the king's personal request," responds Duncan, with a look I'm sure he hopes shuts me up. Not a chance.

"So he needs two Grey Wardens standing up there holding the torch. Just in case, right?" I know I'm not being fair, I know it's not Duncan's fault, but I'm still mad. No matter what Duncan or the king say there is no reason for two skilled Grey Wardens to light a damned signal fire. I know what this is really about. I'm being kept out of battle because I'm the bastard prince, a fact which has caused me nothing but trouble and shouldn't matter here. I'm a Grey Warden, I'm a warrior, let me do what I'm here to do!

"I agree with Alistair, we should be in the battle." Looks like I'm not the only one who hates being left behind.

"That's not up to you," responds Duncan sternly. "If King Cailan wishes Grey Wardens to ensure the beacon is lit, Grey Wardens it will be. We do _whatever is necessary _to end the blight, exciting or no." I know when I've been beat, and arguing about it would just make me look childish.

"I get it, I get it. Just so you know, if the king ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I'm drawing the line. Darkspawn or no." I hear a smothered laugh beside me, but when I turn Angel has a perfectly straight face.

"I think I'd like to see that."

"For you, maybe. But it has to be a pretty dress." She sighs.

"And I've left all mine in Highever. Duncan, do you think we could swing by the castle and pick something up for Alistair?"

"Maker help me, there's two of them," Duncan mutters. "The tower is over the bridge that spans the gorge. From the top you'll be able to see the entire valley."

"Where will you be?" she asks.

"Fighting beside the king with the rest of the Grey Wardens." He cuts her off with a look. "Again, at the king's request."

"Can we join the battle afterwards?" Good question! I look at Duncan eagerly, but any hope I have is quickly crushed.

"Stay with the Teyrn's men and guard the tower. We will send word if you are needed. The battle will begin shortly, if there is nothing else I must join the others."

"Will we at least be in any danger?" My, this girl has a violent streak.

"Of course. Even the best laid plans go awry, so do what you must. I trust you both."

"Just not enough to actually fight with you," I say drolly. Duncan laughs.

"There will be plenty of battles Alistair. Be patient."

"My Nan always told me patience is a virtue," says Angel. Duncan nods at her approvingly. I know better. Even by firelight I can see the wicked gleam in her eye. "I always told her 'Perhaps for a princess in a tower, but I prefer to do my own rescuing.' Matika, here!" She calls over her Mabari and starts to give him detailed instructions. Duncan rolls his eyes, but with a smile on his face.

"Duncan..." I start. I'm not sure how to finish the sentence. Good luck? Take me with you? For the love of the Maker, please stay safe? "Maker watch over you."

"May He watch over us all," he says, then disappears into the night.

"You ready?" asks Angel, coming up behind me with her Mabari following closely.

"Yep," I say. "Let's go."

"First things first; Alistair, this is Matika. Matika, Alistair." I believe I see the hound incline it's head.

"I'm, um, pleased to meet you?" I turn back to Angel. "Sorry, I'm not up to date on the niceties of being introduced to a dog." Matika barks at me.

"Is it just me, or did that bark sound... insulted?" She laughs at me.

"You've never met a Mabari before, have you?"

"Of course I have, they're everywhere."

"No, you've seen them, maybe even been to their kennels and interacted with a group?"

"Sounds about right."

"A group of Mabari socialize among themselves and with their kennel master. A single Mabari, however, is a different story. He can understand everything you say, can carry out complex orders, and fights as a warrior, not a beast. This is Matika." She makes a gesture and he moves up to stand by her side. "He is strong, smart, fast, and mine. He will obey only me, though he might take what you say under advisement." He gives a playful bark. "So, yes, if you think you hear communication in his barks, you probably did." I'm starting to feel a bit intimidated. By a dog. Not a good sign.

"If he's so smart then why doesn't he speak?" I ask.

"You just answered your own question, Alistair," she says with amusement. "He's smart enough not to speak."

The camp seems deserted as we head for the bridge and the hounds start to bay as we reach it. Matika's ears perk up, but he stays otherwise focused on his mistress. The catapults are loaded, and, for a single instant, time stands still. Then Angel takes a step onto the bridge and everything speeds up again. The war cries of men come up from below us, mingled with the sound of clashing steel.

It begins to rain as we start to cross the gorge, never good for a battle. It makes the ground slippery, loosens your grip on your sword, and obstructs your vision. Matika gives a warning bark and I look up just in time to see a flaming stone coming our way.

"Run for it!" I yell. We manage to dodge the stone, but not the impact. We're knocked off our feet and left scrambling for purchase on the wet cobblestones. We take the rest of the bridge at a dead run, managing to avoid any further issues. We're approaching the tower when I realize something is wrong. The Teyrn's men are fleeing in droves. A mage spots us and pauses, waving us over.

"You! You're Grey Wardens, aren't you? The tower... it's been taken!"

"What are you talking about man? Taken how?" I demand.

"The darkspawn came up from the lower chambers, they're everywhere! Most of our men are dead." I look around us at the fleeing, terrified men and the warrior in me comes to the forefront.

"Then we must climb the tower and light the beacon ourselves." I draw my sword and shield as Angel unsheathes her daggers.

"What is your name, good man?" she asks the mage.

"E-Erik, ser."

"Erik, I want you to listen to me. We're a bit understaffed here and could really use an extra man. Will you help us?" He takes a deep breath.

"Yes. Yes, of course. What do you want me to do?"

"Just follow my lead," she says. She nods at me, I return it, and together we enter the courtyard. Which is swarming with darkspawn. By the time we reach the tower's doors I'm covered in blood, and have more than doubled my prior darkspawn kill count. We enter through the tower and fight through one floor and then another before pausing for a quick rest.

"Maker's breath! What are these darkspawn doing ahead of the horde? There wasn't supposed to be any resistance here!" She shoots me a sideways glance.

"You could try telling them they're in the wrong place." If she keeps this up I might just fall in love with her. Witty one liners get me every time. Speaking of which...

"Right. Because this is obviously just a big misunderstanding, we'll laugh about it later."

"Um... I was led to believe yours was a more serious order," chimes in Erik. Angel looks at him dismissively before turning back to me.

"Besides, weren't you complaining that you wouldn't get to fight?"

"Hey, you're right. I guess there is a silver lining here, if you think about it. At any rate, we need to hurry to the top and light the signal. Teyrn Loghain will be waiting."

"Is that so? And here I thought we might stop for tea and biscuits," she throws over her shoulder as she continues forward. Okay, maybe her sarcasm isn't quite as fun when it's directed at me. Is that Mabari smirking at me?

We battle on against what seems like a never ending stream of darkspawn until we finally reach the top of the tower. And there we find a type of darkspawn I've never seen before, only heard about from the other Grey Wardens in stories they use to scare recruits. An Ogre.

"Alistair, do you trust me?" asks Angel out of the side of her mouth.

"Um, yes, I suppose I do, why?"

"I need you to distract it."

"And how am I supposed to do that?"

"Bash it with your shield and make a swipe at it's right leg."

"Are you insane?" I ask incredulously.

"Just trust me!" So I do. And while I'm bashing it with my shield, she's using Matika as a springboard. And when it stumbles to the right from my swipe at it's leg, she launches herself at it's face, sticking her dagger in it's eye, then swinging to it's back and slitting it's throat. She rides it to the ground before jumping off and turning to me.

"Thanks," she says. I, of course, am still staring in slack jawed amazement. Not even Al has anything to add. "Right then, let's light the signal."

I strike the flint in my pocket and set the beacon ablaze. Only there's no sound of horns or rushing of men to the battle. The sounds coming from the field haven't changed at all.

"Something's wrong-" she starts, but the darkspawn have found us. They rush into the room and before I can even raise my shield Angel is struck in the chest with an arrow, going down.

"Angel!" I yell, trying to get to her, but I'm quickly overwhelmed and brought to the ground. The last sight I see before my vision fades is that of a dragon.


	4. Chapter 4

I awake with a thud as I hit the ground. Before I'm fully conscious I'm on my feet, my sword drawn. I find I'm back outside that shack in the Wilds, and I see the old woman that lives here handing Angel's limp body off to Morrigan.

"Quickly girl. Take her inside and strip off her armor. Put the kettle on to boil. She's going to need a lot of help very quickly."

"Wait! What are you doing? Where are you taking her?" I try to follow Morrigan inside, but her mother blocks my path.

"You care for this woman?" she asks.

"Yes, of course I do!"

"Then sit down and shut up. She is very badly injured. Pray to whatever Gods you worship that she'll live, else you will be the last Warden in Ferelden." My sword suddenly feels too heavy for my arm to carry and falls to the ground.

"What do you mean the last one?"

"When your general quit the field the darkspawn slaughtered all who remained, including your king and all other Grey Wardens in Ferelden. I have no time to comfort you boy, I have a life to save." With that she turns around and enters the shack. I stumble over to the side a few steps and collapse. Matika, who I hadn't noticed until now, stops whining at the door and lays down next to me.

They're gone. Duncan is gone. The Wardens are gone. The only place that ever felt like home... is gone. I'm all alone. Matika nudges my hand and I stroke his head. He looks in the direction of the shack and whimpers. It occurs to me that maybe I'm not so alone after all. So we sit there through the night, keeping vigil over the shack while Angel fights for her life inside and I plead with the Maker not to take her, not to leave me here by myself.

The old woman comes out of the shack at dawn. Her eyes find us immediately, as if she can sense our presence. I wait expectantly.

"She'll live." The breath I didn't realize I've been holding releases in a sigh of relief. "She won't be up for a few hours yet. Continue your mourning if you must boy, but stay out of my way." So she's alive, I'm not the only Warden left in Ferelden. My happiness is short lived, however. I still have no idea what to do. I spend the next few hours in contemplation, wishing Duncan was here to give me guidance one last time.

"See? Here is your fellow Grey Warden," says Morrigan's mother. "You worry too much young man." I turn to see Angel walking towards me, looking like she was never injured in the first place, save for the minuscule scar below her collar bone where the arrow hit her. Matika runs up to her immediately, licking her hand, and she gives me a sad smile. I guess Morrigan filled in her before she left the hut.

"You... you're alive! I thought you were dead for sure."

"It takes more than a few darkspawn to kill me," she says, making a weak attempt at humor. For once in my life, I'm not laughing.

"Duncan's dead, the Grey Wardens, even the king... they're all dead. Why not us too?" She looks at me hopelessly. It seems she doesn't have the answers either. "This doesn't seem real. If not for Morrigan's mother we'd be dead on top of that tower."

"Do not talk about me as if I am not present, Lad," she says sharply behind me.

"I'm sorry," I say, turning my body halfway to the side to include her in the conversation. "I didn't mean... What do we call you? You never told us your name."

"Names are pretty, but useless. Similar to most nobles of Ferelden," she says with her off-putting laugh. Angel stiffens.

"I happen to be a noble," she says.

"Well then, let us hope you don't fall into the category of 'most.' The Chasind call me Flemeth, it will do." My jaw drops. Can this day get any more surreal?

"_The_ Flemeth? From the legends? Daveth was right, you're the Witch of the Wilds, aren't you?" I ask.

"And what does that mean? I know a bit of magic, and it has served you both well, has it not?"

"It has," cuts in Angel. "And we thank you for it."

"If you're Flemeth you must be very old and powerful," I say, warily. Back in the Chantry it was hammered into my head that apostates are dangerous. And I have a feeling this one is more dangerous than most.

"Must I? Age and power are relative- it depends on who is asking. Compared to you, yes on both accounts," she responds.

"Then why didn't you save Duncan?" I ask accusingly. "He is... he was our leader."

"Alistair," says Angel quietly, "it's probably not a good idea to yell at Flemeth. You know the legends as well as I do." Right. For a moment there I forgot that I don't want to be turned into a toad.

"I am sorry for your Duncan," says Flemeth in a level voice, "but your grief must come later... in the dark shadows before you take vengeance, as my mother once said. Duty must come now."

"She's right you know," says Angel beside me, that hard look back on her face. "Giving into grief would have left me dead in Highever, it's only planning my vengeance that's kept me alive." Sometimes I forget she's not all happiness and jokes. There is a very dark and vicious woman buried under there.

"So what do we do now?" I ask.

"It has always been the Grey Warden's duty to unite the land against the Blight. Or did that change when I wasn't looking?" comes Flemeth's response.

"It changed when most of them were slaughtered," states Angel. "Alistair is the real Grey Warden here, not me." I stare at her in shock.

"All the Grey Wardens in Ferelden are gone, except us. I've lost everyone! For the love of the maker, don't back out on me now!"

"My brother is out there somewhere!" she says, gesturing at the forest around us. "I need to find him. Would you have me forget my family's murder?"

"And what about everyone else?" I yell back. "We can't let all their deaths be in vain!"

"Ahhh, to have lost so much. It seems you two have much in common," says Flemeth. Angel's expression softens slightly.

"I can't do this one my own. Please, we have to do something," I plead. Angel sighs and begins to pace.

"What could Loghain hope to gain by betraying the king?" she asks aloud.

"The throne?" I suggest. "He's the queen's father. Still, I can't see how he'll get away with murder."

"You speak as if he would be the first king to gain his throne that way. Grow up boy!" spats Flemeth.

"Is it just me, or is Flemeth getting less helpful and more insulting?" I say to Angel, causing her to crack a smile.

"If my father was still alive he wouldn't get away with this," she says. "He was the only other teyrn in Ferelden, Loghain's equal in power. There would have been a landsmeet, and civil war if he refused to step down." An idea enters my mind. Don't be so shocked, it happens occasionally.

"Arl Eamon! Arl Eamon could call a landsmeet!" She pauses in her pacing.

"How do you know the Arl of Redcliffe?" she asks. Good question. One I currently have no desire to answer.

"It's a long story. But he's a good man, well respected in the landsmeet. We can go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help."

"Alistair, keep in mind Loghain was also an honorable man. As was Howe."

"The Arl would never do what they did. I know him too well." The look she gives me says she's not convinced. After what she's been through I don't blame her. "Besides, he was Cailan's uncle. He will have no love for Loghain." She seems to come to a decision and nods her head.

"Well," she says, "it's a place to start, though I don't think Eamon on his own will be enough. He can't exactly defeat the darkspawn horde single handed."

"We'll find a way," I say, stepping closer and lifting her chin to meet my eyes. "It's up to us, after all." There's a small pause and for an instant I think, this is it, my very first kiss...

"You have more at your disposal than you think," interrupts Flemeth. I drop my hand and take a step back. Thank you very much Flemeth.

"You're right of course," I say. "The treaties give us the right to demand aid from the dwarves, elves, and mages to start with. They're obligated to help us during a blight."

"I may be old, but that sounds like an army to me."

"So can we do this?" I ask Angel. "Go to Redcliffe and these other places and... build an army?" She gives me her first real smile since she's awoken, a wry grin.

"Why not? Isn't that what Wardens do?" I return her smile with one of my own.

"As a matter of fact, it is."

"So you are set then? Ready to be Grey Wardens?" Angel turns to Flemeth with a grateful smile.

"Yes, thank you for everything Flemeth."

"No, no, thank _you_. You are the Grey Wardens here, not I. Now, before you go, there is yet one more thing I can offer you."

"The stew is bubbling, Mother dear. Are we having guests this eve?" says Morrigan, coming out of the hut. Please don't say Morrigan, please don't say Morrigan...

"My daughter, Morrigan." Damn it!

"I think that's an excellent idea," says Angel.

"Have I no say in this?" Morrigan and I say as one, followed by glares towards the other's direction.

"You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years," says Flemeth. "As for you, Wardens, consider this repayment for your lives."

"We'll take her with us. She won't come to harm with us," reassures Angel.

"Not to... look a gift horse in the mouth, but won't this add to our problems? Out of the wilds, she's an apostate," I point out.

"If you do not wish help from us illegal mages, young man, perhaps I should have left you in that tower," counters Flemeth.

"Point taken," I concede. Morrigan gathers her things and suggests we head to a small town called Lothering. The whole situation still isn't sitting right with me. "Do you really want to take her along just because her mother says so?" I ask. Yes, I know I sounds whiny. No, I don't care.

"No, I want to take her because she's a powerful mage and we need all the help we can get," says Angel. I sigh.

"I guess you're right. The Grey Wardens have always taken allies where they could find them."

"I am so pleased to have your approval," says Morrigan. She doesn't sound pleased. I think it's official the apostate and I don't get along.

"So, how do you plan to get us past the darkspawn?" asks Angel.

"Good question," I say. "Just as we can sense them, they can sense us."

"Don't worry your little Warden brain over it," she says to me. "Just focus on making sure your armor isn't on backwards." Yep, it's definitely official. "Shall we go on, or do you have further questions?"

"Can you cook?" I ask.

"I... can cook, yes," is her response.

"Great! Then you can substitute for me," I say with a smile.

"I also know at least fifteen different poisons that grow right here in this marsh. Not that I would suggest 'tis at all related to cooking."

"Right. My cooking will kill us all, that's all I meant," I say. Angel rolls her eyes and adjusts her pack.

"All right you two, let's go. Morrigan, we'll follow you."

"One thing, before we begin. You, dim witted one," says Morrigan.

"My name is Alistair," I say through gritted teeth.

"And I'm sure your parents are so very proud you remember it! When I was watching your group in the Wilds I noticed your eyes seemed to stay focused on your fellow Grey Warden's figure while she was in the lead." Angel's surprised face snaps to me, while I feel my face turning a bright red and refuse to look at her. "I trust we will not have the same issue?"

"Oh, believe me, we won't."

"Good. On our way then," says Morrigan, setting off. It's official. I hate her.


	5. Chapter 5

I'll admit I spend most of our journey to Lothering in silence. Can you blame me? I'm not exactly having the best day here. Angel doesn't seem to notice. She spends the trip walking ahead with Morrigan, _talking_. Though why anyone in their right mind would want to talk to Morrigan is beyond me. Perhaps she was injured more severely than I thought. I suppose it would be selfish of me to say I wish Angel didn't like her. So I won't say it. Doesn't mean I won't think it though.

Speaking of thinking, I suppose I should tell Angel about the whole bastard prince thing. She deserves to know. But the thing is, I really don't want to tell her. That's a good enough reason not to, right? I don't think I could stand it if she looked at me differently, or started to treat me differently. Surely, it can wait.

"Well, there it is," I say, interrupting the two girls' conversation. "Lothering. Pretty as a painting." Angel turns to me with a small smile, but it's the witch that speaks first.

"Ah, so you have finally decided to rejoin us, have you? Falling on your blade in grief seemed like too much trouble, I take it?" I glare at her, but she either doesn't notice or doesn't care. I'm betting on the latter.

"Is my being upset really so hard to understand? Have you never lost anyone important to you? Just what would you do if your mother died, hmm?" If I had been hoping for a shred of compassion I'd be severely disappointed. She simply quirks and eyebrow.

"Before or after I stopped laughing?"

"Right, very creepy. Forget I asked."

"You have been rather quiet, Alistair," says Angel, pulling my attention away from Morrigan and back to her.

"Yes, I know, I'm sorry," I say a bit softly, taking a step towards her. If there's anyone left in the world I can confide in, it's Angel Cousland. Though I'm still pretty sure I don't want to. "I was just... thinking."

"No wonder it took so long," interrupts Morrigan from behind me. Any confiding I have to do should probably wait until the swamp witch isn't listening quite so closely. I take a step back from Angel and turn to Morrigan, angry.

"Oh, I get it. This is the part where we're shocked to discover how you've never had a friend your entire life."

"I can be friendly when I desire to. Alas, desiring to be more intelligent does not make it so," she responds, her composure completely intact. Damn. I had been going for hurtful. It seems I'm going to have to try harder. I wonder where her weak points are. I wonder if she has any at all. Angel lets out an impatient sigh.

"Are the two of you done? We need to get moving." Oh good, she has a plan! This is why she leads, and I follow.

"Where do we intend to go first?" I ask, my spirits rising.

"I need to look for Fergus. He might still be alive," she says, brushing past the two of us and starting towards the village. My spirits drop back down. Her brother, right. Her final remaining family member, sent out to scout the darkspawn infested Wilds. Maker, how do I handle this one?

"He was out scouting in the Wilds, wasn't he? That's what the king said," I begin hesitantly.

"Then attempting to look for him would be foolish. He is either dead or he managed to flee to the North, though the former is far more likely," says Morrigan before I have a chance to continue. Angel freezes mid-step.

"Very sensitive of you," I say to Morrigan. "And I'm supposed to be the stupid one?"

"I am simply saying that it is foolish to mount a rescue when you have no notion of where this man is and the wilds are overrun with darkspawn," she continues to explain, as if she's discussing locating a missing trinket instead of Angel's only living relative. "You will either find him somewhere outside the Wilds with other survivors or you won't find him at all." Angel spins to face us with fire in her eyes.

"That doesn't mean I shouldn't look for him!" she says vehemently.

"That's exactly what it means," replies Morrigan, as if she can't comprehend why they're even still discussing this. "You wish to do this brother of yours a service? Avenge him. When this war is over there will be time to look for survivors." The anger is still radiating off Angel. Perhaps she doesn't like Morrigan that much after all. Then she takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, seeming to gain control of her temper.

"You're right. Now is not the time. We have an army to build."

"So, where to first?" I ask more cautiously this time. She flashes me one of her wry smiles.

"First we go to Lothering." I chuckle.

"Genius. This is why you're in charge."

"Is it? And here I thought it was because you were in awe of my stunning good looks," she replies, her smile changing to flirtatious. My heart thuds painfully loud in my chest. Seriously, I'm surprised she can't hear it. I hesitate too long with my comeback( not that I can think of one anyway, damn you Al!) and she turns to Morrigan.

"Anything I need to know about this town?" she asks.

"It has a tavern and a Chantry. News can probably be gathered at both, though I'm guessing two very different kinds." Angel nods.

"Right then, lead on," she says. Instead of falling into step beside Morrigan she waits a moment and falls into step with me. She waits until Morrigan is a bit ahead of us before she starts speaking.

"Would you like to talk about Duncan?" I glance at her to find she's still facing forward and scanning the trees.

"You don't have to do that," I respond in a brisk tone. "I know you didn't know him as long as I did." Her hand on my arm stops me and I turn to face her.

"He was like a father to you. I get it," she says, her eyes full of understanding.

"I... should have handled it better," I say on a sigh. "Duncan warned me right from the beginning that this could happen, no one is immune from falling in battle. I shouldn't have lost it, not with everything riding on us. I'm sorry."

"No harm done," she says, a warm smile gracing her pretty pink lips.

"I'd like to have a proper service for him once this is all over. He mentioned once that he was from Highever, though he had no family to speak of."

"He had you," she says. I find myself smiling.

"Yes, I suppose he did. Thank you. Really, I mean it. It was good to talk about it, at least a little."

"If you ever need to talk more, you know where to find me." Her big blue eyes are sparkling up at me and I can't help but stare at her lips. I start to reach my hand out to cup her face-

"Are the two of you quite done whispering?" calls Morrigan from where the treeline ends. "We have a bit of a situation." Angel immediately turns and jogs up to her, leaving my hand floating in midair. I quickly drop it and let my head fall forward in frustration. Of course there's a situation. I'm starting to think there will always be a situation. I join Angel, Morrigan, and Matika on the ruined highway leading to Lothering.

"Bandits," I say as we approach a group of men that seem to think they look threatening. I can't speak for the others, but I personally don't feel the least bit threatened. "Seems like they've been preying on the refugees."

"Not bandits, toll collectors!" proclaims the one that appears to be the leader. "A simple ten silvers and you're free to move on." Angel scoffs. It seems she's not threatened either.

"I'm not paying you a single copper," she says.

"Well, I can't say I'm pleased to hear that. We have rules, you know," responds the leader.

"Right. We get to ransack your corpse then. Those are the rules," adds a rather slow looking bandit behind him. Angel chuckles.

"Well you can certainly try. That is, if you think you can take a pair of Grey Wardens."

"Did she say 'Grey Warden?' Thems the ones that killed the king!" chimes in the slow one. I see Angel stiffen as every muscle in my body goes tense. Did he just say...

"Ah yes, traitors to Ferelden I hear," says their leader. Before he can so much as take another breath Angel's dagger is at his throat.

"What did you just say?" she asks menacingly.

"Let's forget about the toll. We'll just leave you to your darkspawn-fighting, king-killing ways," he says nervously.

"We did not betray the king!" I say, taking a step towards them, my hand on my hilt.

"That's not what Teyrn Loghain said. He's even offering a bounty on any surviving Wardens," says the slow one.

"For the love of the Maker, shut up!" says the leader, trying not to move too much and cut himself on Angel's blade. "Of course, you would never kill the king. I never believed it for a moment," he continues to Angel.

"But boss, you said-" starts the bandit behind him.

"I said shut up!" the leader nearly yells. Angel studies him for a moment before pushing him away.

"Take your people and go. If I see you here again I will kill you without warning." They scamper off in the direction we came in without another word, Angel watching them go.

"It seems this Loghain has found himself the perfect scapegoat," says Morrigan from behind us. "Now what?"

"I think it's about time we go hear the news," says my fellow Grey Warden, heading once more towards Lothering. "And Alistair?" she calls over her shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"Keep that sword handy."


	6. Chapter 6

"Tavern or chantry first?" I ask as we reach the outer limits of Lothering.

"Chantry is closer," volunteers Morrigan.

"Chantry it is," decides Angel. We've passed a camp of refugees and are through the main gate when we're halted by a Templar.

"Move on if you can. Lothering's lost."

"Well, isn't he just a ray of sunshine?" I whisper to Angel who tries to supress a smile.

"Unless you plan to physically restrain us I suggest you move out of our way, fool," says Morrigan, stepping up to the Templar. He seems taken aback, though I'm really just guessing since he's wearing full Templar plate, including the helm. For all I know, he's a broody elf with glowing tattoos under there. He takes a step away from Morrigan. Smart man.

"I have no plans to stop you, nor does anyone else here, I wager. The Bann marched North with Teyrn Loghain, taking his army with him. Elder Miriam and Ser Bryant both are simply trying to evacuate as many people as possible. Excuse me," he says, stepping away and heading for a refugee trying to get his attention.

"Morrigan, must you threaten everyone we meet?" asks Angel, amusement in her voice. Morrigan seems to consider this for a moment.

"I suppose it's not a requirement, though it does seem to resolve matters more quickly." Angel gives her a look and she sighs. "Very well, I'll attempt to try your way." We make our way across the village to the doors of the chantry, only to be stopped once more.

"If you're seeking refuge in the chantry there's simply no room left," says the Templar.

"For the love of the Gods, do we look like refugees?" exclaims Morrigan.

"Well done giving Angel's way a try," I lean over and whisper to her. She glowers at me. Angel thanks him for his advice and we finally make it into the chantry.

"We are the only hope this village has against the darkspawn and we will _not _abandon them," comes a rather forceful voice from farther back in the chantry. I need no introduction to know this is Ser Bryant, commander of the Lothering Templars. If there's one thing I learned among the Templars it was how to spot the man that can give you kitchen duty. He looks up when he hears us approach, his gaze immediately honing in on Angel. Not that I can blame him. That's where my eyes rest most of the time as well.

"Yes, my lady? Who might you be?" Angel gives him a smile.

"You can call me Angel," she replies.

"I am Ser Bryant, commander of Lothering's remaining Templars, he says with a bow. "You don't seem like refugees. Are you one of Arl Eamon's knights?" She looks at him with amusement.

"Does Arl Eamon have many female knights?" He blushes faintly.

"None that I have seen, though by the look of you he should make an exception."

"It sounds as though you've seen many of his knights," she continues, pushing gently for information.

"Quite a few in recent days. Arl Eamon has fallen ill, and his knights are on a quest for the Sacred Urn filled with Andraste's ashes, said to cure any malady." He gives a disbelieving scoff. "He must be very ill if they chase miracles as the only cure." My heart drops to my stomach. Arl Eamon is ill? Can not a single thing go our way?

"Surely you don't mean to tell me that a man of faith such as yourself doesn't believe in miracles?" Angel says earnestly. I bite my lip to keep from laughing. I know she's kidding, but he doesn't. He seems flustered.

"I-of course not, my lady. If you wish to know more about their, ahem, _quest_, one of the knights, Ser Donall, is here." My eyes immediately start scanning the chapel. I spot him to the right of us, struggling through a tome.

"Ser Donall? Is that you?" I call, breaking from the group and heading over to him. I hear Angel mumble some parting excuses before following. He looks around for who's calling his name and breaks into a grin when he sees me.

"Alistair? By the maker, how are you? I... I was certain you were dead!" he says, grasping me by the arm.

"Not yet, no thanks to Loghain," I reply bitterly. What can I say? Killing the king along with my entire order and then attempting to pin the murder on us has left me with a bit of a chip on my shoulder. "So, you're here looking for the Urn of Sacred Ashes, then?"

"I am indeed, though I fear we are chasing a fable."

"Speaking of chasing," says Angel from behind me, "shouldn't you be fleeing the darkspawn?" Ser Donall gives me a questioning look.

"Right, Ser Donall this is Angel, my fellow Grey Warden."

"Ah, a pleasure, Warden," he says. "My mission takes priority over the darkspawn and I had hoped to make use of this chantry's library. Alas, my skills are better suited to battle than chasing down tales."

"I was hoping to meet Arl Eamon, in fact," she says. "Is there any point in going to Redcliffe?"

"I wish I could answer that for you. He may be dead already, or perhaps his luck has changed in the weeks I have been gone. I don't know."

"We should go see what's happening in Redcliffe for ourselves," I chime in. "I believe that now more than ever." Angel still looks doubtful.

"If nothing else, I am certain you would be welcomed at Castle Redcliffe," adds Donall. "The arlessa is there, and she could tell you more than I could." I try to quiet the discomfort his words bring. Arlessa Isolde. The memory of a stern faced Orlesian instructing the cooks not to give me anything to eat, that I'm already too fat, enters my mind. I shake my head to push the recollection away.

"...once Ser Henric arrives," Ser Donall is saying. It seems I missed part of the conversation.

"This Ser Henric, would he be wearing the same armor as yours?" asks Morrigan.

"I... suppose so," he says. "Why?"

"He is dead. Here, I found this locket on him in the woods," she says, handing it over.

"When did you find that?" I ask in confusion. Last I checked we were all traveling together.

"When the two of you were dawdling behind," responds Morrigan.

"Why did you take his locket?" I ask suspiciously.

"Does it matter? It's now fulfilled a need. Don't question such things."

"Well, at any rate, with Ser Henric gone I need to return to Redcliffe. Thank you for your help, and perhaps I'll see you there." With a nod of his head, Ser Donall leaves the chantry. Wow. To say we got more news than I'd bargained for is an understatement.

"On to the tavern then," says Morrigan, turning and leading the way. Angel shrugs at me and follows, while I fall into step next to her.

"So, this Arl Eamon," she starts, curiously, "did he raise you?" Maker, this woman is smart.

"What? Of course not! Dogs raised me. Giant, slobbering dogs from the Anderfels. A whole pack of them, in fact." She's smiling now.

"Really? That must have been tough for them," she says with an even voice.

"Well, they were flying dogs you see. Surprisingly strict parents, too, and devout Andrastians, to boot." She's laughing now and I feel rather pleased with myself.

"Uh-huh, raised by flying dogs were you?"

"Or did I dream all that? Funny the dreams you'll have when lying on the cold, hard ground, isn't it?" I continue to tease. "Are you having any strange dreams?" She glances at me with that wicked gleam in her eye.

"Only the ones where we're making mad love in my tent." I trip over my own feet and barely manage to stay upright, while she sports a satisfied grin. I've completely lost my train of thought. The only thing going through my head now is what she looks like under that armor... I look over to see her still smiling at me. She raises an eyebrow expectantly. Point, Cousland.

I suppose now would be the time to tell her the truth, to tell her I'm King Maric's bastard son, but... I think she might be starting to like me. And Maker knows I like her. I want her to like me for me, not for anything else. So I'll tell her the truth, mostly, and just leave out the part about Maric. I clear my throat.

"Invisible rocks, they're the worst," I say. I don't think she bought it. "How do I explain this? I'm a bastard." I see her eyes light up with mirth and quickly add, "And before you make any smart comments, I mean the fatherless kind." She gives me a disappointed look.

"You're no fun." Woman after my own heart. Or rather, I'm fairly certain I'm after hers.

"I know," I respond. "I'm often told I need to lighten up, stop being so serious." She rolls her eyes. "My mother was a serving girl in Redcliffe castle who died when I was very young. Arl Eamon wasn't my father, but he took me in anyhow and put a roof over my head. He was good to me and he didn't have to be. I respect the man and I don't blame him anymore for sending me off to the chantry once I was old enough." I wonder if she'll let the story end there.

"But you blamed him then, I take it?" she asks. I should have known better. With all the questions she's always asking Angel is one of the most curious people I've ever known.

"I was young and resentful and not very pious," I start. She grins.

"I see some things never change," she says. I snort.

"You try living in a chantry for ten years and see how pious you end up. Anyway, of course I blamed him. I remember screaming at him like a little child... well I was a child, so I doubt he was surprised."

"Why did he send you away?" she asks. "If he'd held onto you for ten years what was the sudden change?"

"Arl Eamon married a young woman from Orlais, which caused all sorts of problems between him and the king, since it was so soon after the war. But he loved her, so he did it anyway. The new arlessa resented the rumors which pegged me as his bastard. They weren't true, but of course they existed."

"Were you raised as his son?" she asks. I can't hold back a short laugh.

"No, not at all. I slept in the stables on hay, not in the castle on silk sheets. At any rate, off I was packed to the nearest monastery at age ten. Just as well, really. The arlessa made sure the castle wasn't a home to me by that point. She despised me." Angel's eyes spark with fire.

"What an awful thing to do to a child!" she fumes. I smile a bit. It comforts me to see her being defensive of the child that I was.

"She felt threatened by my presence, I can see that now. I can't say I blame her."

"Well I blame her. Having an orphan shipped off because of her own insecurities is not the actions of a grown woman. It's the actions of a child. Did Eamon ever come to visit you?"

"He came by the monastery a few times. He even brought me the only thing I had of my mother's, an amulet with Andraste's holy symbol on it. I was so mad that I threw it against the wall and it shattered. I hated it there, and blamed him for everything. He eventually stopped coming." My voice has gotten quieter while I speak. Angel touches my arm.

"You were young, Alistair."

"And raised by dogs," I say, trying to lighten the mood. "Or I may as well have been, the way I acted. But maybe all young bastards act that way, I don't know. Anyway, that's really all there is to the story."

"Are the two of you quite finished?" asks Morrigan from just ahead of us, standing by the doors of the tavern. Angel quickens her step so she's in the lead once more, entering the tavern. The door's barely shut behind us when we're confronted by a group of armed soldiers. Loghain's soldiers.

"Well, look what we have here men. I think we've just been blessed," says the commander.

"Didn't we spend all morning asking about a woman by the very description? And everyone said they hadn't seen her?" asks one of the soldiers behind him.

"It appears we were lied to," muses the commander.

"Gentlemen, surely there is no need for trouble," says a new voice, a red headed sister stepping out of the crowd. "These are no doubt simply more poor souls seeking refuge."

"They're more than that," spits the commander. "Now stay out of our way, Sister. You protect these traitors, you'll get the same as them." Instead of shrinking back and hiding as I would expect from a lay sister, she stands her ground, looking not very worried at all. Angel grins and pulls her daggers out.

"That's okay, Sister. It looks like he wants a fight, and I'm happy to oblige." I draw my sword and skewer the nearest soldier to me, while daggers go flying in two different directions. That's odd, normally Angel keep a hold of one... I glance up to see the sister retrieving her dagger from one of the fallen soldiers and Angel pressing her remaining dagger to the throat of the commander. I can see now why the sister wasn't worried.

"All right, you've won!" yells the commander. "We surrender." Angel laughs.

"Of course you surrender, you fool. I've got a dagger to your neck."

"Good, they've learned their lesson and we can all stop fighting now," says the sister.

"They would have shown us no mercy, and deserve none in return," says Angel, pressing her dagger forward just a bit so it bites into his skin. "But I will let them live this time. Take a message to Loghain," she tells the commander.

"W-what do you want to tell him?" he stammers.

"He'll pay for what he's done. We're coming for him," she says, pushing him away so he lands on his rump. He scrambles to his feet.

"I'll tell him. Right away. Now. Thank you!" he says, rushing for the door, his few remaining soldiers following quickly behind. Angel turns to watch them go with a satisfied smile. There's that vicious streak again.

"I apologize for interfering, but I couldn't just sit by and not help," comes the sister's voice from behind her. Angel turns to look at her with her arms crossed across her chest.

"So I see. Where does a sister learn to fight like that?"

"I wasn't born in the chantry, you know," she says with a touch of exasperation. "Many of us had more... colorful lives before we joined. I am Leliana, a lay sister of the chantry here in Lothering. Or, at least, I was." Angel's body language doesn't change.

"And is there something you wanted from me?" she asks impatiently.

"Those men said you're a Grey Warden. You will be battling the darkspawn, yes? That is what Grey Wardens do?" she asks. I had suspected she was Orlesian from her accent, but her pattern of speech confirms it. Wonderful. Orleasians. Yay. "I know after what happened you'll need all the help you can get. That's why I'm coming along." Angel raises an eyebrow.

"Why so eager to come with us? You do realize darkspawn blood is very hard to get out of your clothes, right?" asks Angel.

"The Maker told me to," is Leliana's response.

"Right... I believe this is where I back away slowly," says Angel, taking a step back.

"I-I know that sounds... absolutely insane- but it's true! I had a dream... a vision!" protests Leliana.

"More crazy? I thought we were all full up," I say. Honestly, do we really need to add a chantry sister that sees visions to our roster of former Templar, current apostate, noblewoman out for vengeance, and dog smart enough not to talk?

"For once we are in agreement," says Morrigan. "Let's move along, shall we?"

"Wait! Look at the people here. They are lost in their despair, and this darkness, this chaos... it will spread. The Maker doesn't want this. What you do is the Maker's work. Let me help!" she pleads.

"I need more than prayers here, I'm afraid," says Angel gently.

"I can fight! You just saw me not a moment ago. And I can do more than that. As I said, I was not always a lay sister. I put aside that life when I came here, but now... I will take it up again, gladly, if it is the Maker's will. Please let me help you." Angel sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Very well," she says, looking up. "I will not turn away help when it is offered."

"Perhaps your skull was cracked worse than Mother thought," says Morrigan.

"It must have been," I say to her. "After all, my fellow Grey Warden let you come along." I'm greeted by a glare. I do love provoking those.

"Thank you! I appreciate being given this chance. I will not let you down," says Leliana.

"Right, well that puts us at one too many. Someone needs to go ahead and scout out a camp location," says Angel, turning to the rest of us.

"Why?" asks Leliana, confused. "Why can't there be five of us? Or even six?"

"Any more than five and the enemy will definitely hear us coming," I explain.

"And any less and we're easily overwhelmed," finishes Angel. "Matika, can you manage finding the site?" she asks the Mabari. Leliana gives her a strange look.

"Is she talking to that dog?" she asks.

"Right, the woman spouting visions thinks I'm weird," says Angel, apparently having gotten the affirmative from Matika. "He's a Mabari, he's as smart as you are, and thus far has proved himself more useful." She opens the door to lead us out and Matika trots off towards the opposite direction of town that we came in from.

"Okay Sister-" starts Angel, but Leliana cuts her off.

"Please, I'm leaving that life behind me. Just Leliana."

"Fine, Leliana, since you know the town best you'll take the lead. We've already been to the chantry, we've obviously visited the tavern, where next?" She pauses to think a moment.

"Elder Miriam. She's this way," says Leliana, leading the way with Angel by her side. That leaves me with Morrigan. Time for a bit of fun.

"So, let's talk about your mother, for a moment," I say to her.

"I'd rather talk about your mother," she responds without missing a beat.

"There's nothing to talk about. Besides, isn't your mother a scary witch who lives in the middle of a forest? Much more interesting."

"To you, perhaps. You would find the moss growing upon a stone interesting." Okay, not working. Change tactics. I'm nothing if not committed.

"You know what's more interesting than that? Apostates. Mages outside the Tower. That's illegal, you know." Morrigan doesn't even bother to look at me, she simply keeps her eyes trained on where Angel and Leliana are speaking with the Elder.

"You did not read that in a book somewhere, did you? I hope the small letters did not strain you overmuch." Angel's headed back for us. Guess it's another loss for me this time.

"Or we could not talk about your mother. That works for me," I say, and I swear I see an evil smile flit across the witch's face.

"Okay, we're going to gather some herbs in the woods to the north. The village needs poultices to help those fleeing the darkspawn," says Angel.

"Are we to solve every problem in the village personally? My, but the darkspawn will be impressed," says Morrigan snidely.

"No, we're going to help these people with what we can before we have to move on. Because it's the right thing to do," counters Angel before turning around and heading for the woods. She doesn't get far, however, before she's sidetracked. There's a man, more like a giant, standing in a cage, speaking in a language I can't understand. The cage is built so he has barely any room to move, and none to sit down in. He stares at Angel as she approaches.

"You aren't one of my captors. I will not amuse you any more than I have the other humans. Leave me in peace," he says, his voice low and naturally menacing, but calm. Angel ignores his words and only stops when she is within arm's reach. I keep my hand on the hilt of my sword, just in case.

"What are you?" she asks.

"A prisoner," he says.

"That's not what I meant," says Angel.

"I'm in a cage, am I not? I've been placed here by the chantry."

"The Revered Mother said he slaughtered an entire family," speaks up Leliana. "Even the children."

"That's horrible!" says Angel, though I notice that she doesn't step away from the cage. I take a step closer to her.

"I agree," answers the prisoner. "I am Sten of the Beresaad- the vanguard- of the qunari people." That would explain the size of him.

"I am Angel, pleased to meet you."

"You mock me," says Sten without much inflection. "Or you show manners I have not come to expect in your lands. Though it matters little now. I will die soon enough."

"This a proud and powerful creature, trapped as prey for the darkspawn. If you cannot see a use for him, I suggest releasing him for mercy's sake alone," says Morrigan. I look at her like she's grown a second head.

"Mercy?" I say incredulously. "I wouldn't have expected that from you."

"I would also suggest that Alistair take his place in the cage," she continues.

"Yes, _that's_ what I would have expected," I say, my mind back at ease.

"And I suggest you leave me to my fate," says Sten, seemingly content to have us go on our way and sit in silence once more. Angel doesn't budge.

"Are you guilty?" she asks.

"Are you asking if I feel guilt, or if I am responsible for the deed? However I feel, whatever I've done, my life is forfeit now," responds Sten.

"If you feel guilty about the murders then why did you commit them?" Angel says. Maker's breath woman, could you at least not stand so close to the homicidal qunari as you continue to interrogate him? The expression on Sten's face changes for the first time, to one of disdain.

"Either you have an enviable memory or a pitiable life to know nothing of regret." Angel studies him for a moment.

"Are you interested in seeking atonement?" she asks.

"Death will be my atonement."

"There are other ways to redeem yourself," she says, continuing in a conversational tone. Sten's interest seems to be peaked. And by that I mean his eyes might be a tiny bit more focused.

"What does your wisdom say is equal to my crime?"

"You could help me defend the land against the blight," she says. It appears our group was in need of a homicidal qunari. How fortunate Angel was able to find one for us.

"The blight?" says Sten. We have his undivided attention now. "Are you a Grey Warden, then?" Angel nods.

"I am."

"Surprising. my people have heard legends of the Grey Wardens' strength and skill... though I suppose not every legend is true." Wow, it's a good thing Sten's around to keep me down to earth. I was actually feeling good about myself there for a second.

"The Reverend Mother might let him out if we tell her the Grey Warden's need his assistance," volunteers Leliana.

"No need," says Angel, fiddling with the lock. "I've got it." The lock pops open and Sten steps out of the cage and stretches.

"And so it is done. I will follow you into battle. In doing so I shall find my atonement."

"And what if I don't lead you to your atonement?" asks Angel.

"Then I will find it myself. May we proceed? I am eager to be elsewhere."

"Of course. Leliana, go catch up to Matika. We'll be following behind soon," directs Angel.

"Oh come on, can't you ever send Morrigan to camp?" I protest.

"Not unless you suddenly develop the ability to cast spells," she replies.

"Wonderful, we're done with Lothering. Can we move on now?" asks Morrigan. Angel gives her a look that says she's not fooled.

"We are not. Off to the woods for the herbs, then we can move on." We traipse off to the north, splitting up once we get there to make the task faster. I've gathered two or three plants when something else catches my eye. It's a rose. A beautiful, red rose, growing wild in this forest. A thing of wonder in a place filled with so much darkness. The darkspawn will be here soon, they'll trample this forest, this town, and all the people left in it. But this rose... this I can save. I pluck it and tuck it safely away in my pack.

"Draw your weapon," says a voice behind me, startling me severely. I turn to see Sten looming over me.

"Are you talking to me?"

"Your weapon. Draw it," he says.

"Why? Are we under attack?" I ask, looking around confused.

"I want to see what you can do," he says, crossing his arms. Okay, it seems he might be crazier than I thought.

"You want to fight me? Just like that?" I ask, rising to my feet.

"You are a Grey Warden. How are you going to face an archdemon if you cannot face me?"

"It is a mystery, I'll admit," I say, attempting to step around him. He blocks my way.

"I should let your weakness damn us all? Draw your sword, I'll try not to injure you permanently." Okay, that's about enough.

"I don't have to prove anything to you. Forget it," I say, pushing past him, bumping his shoulder with mine. Yes, he's a big scary qunari, but I'm a damn fine warrior myself. I don't answer to him.

"So you do have a spine," he says from behind me with-dare I say it?- grudging respect. I turn to look at him. He pushes past me, causing me to stumble. "Pity you don't use it."

"There you two are," says Angel, coming up the path with Morrigan behind her. "I think we've got all we need."

"Finally! Can we drop these off and finally be gone from this pitiful little town?" asks Morrigan. Angel grins.

"Yes Morrigan. We're done with Lothering. Off to camp."


End file.
